


flashes & strikes

by doofusface



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Childhood Friends, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friend Abandonment Issues, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining, Potential Lovers to Friends to Lovers, Romantic Comedy, Roommates, Slow Burn, in this house ben parker doesn't die and mj's parents are actually pretty okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-30 01:28:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15086051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doofusface/pseuds/doofusface
Summary: His:“There arehundredsof Michelles in Cambridge, dude,” Ned says, typing away on his laptop. “Like, there’rethreein my Asian-American History class. All white, too.”Peter groans from the floor, palms digging into his brow ridge. “Okay, okay. I get it. Forget Rain Girl.”Hers:“It’ll take your mind off Bag Guy.”MJ clears her throat. “My mind hasn’t been on Bag Guy.”





	flashes & strikes

**Author's Note:**

> i needed a break from o&a and this was supposed to be short but im nothing if not wrong all the time

**_his_ **

 

Peter stops dead, wondering if the lightning had hit _him_ and not the tree.

He watches a branch fall, attached still by a slowly-tearing seam. Below, a girl runs—body covering a messenger bag and cursing loudly at the flash above.

“Hey, watch out!” Peter yells, regaining control of his body. He runs across the—empty, thankfully—street, eyes glancing up at the branch and down at the girl it’s about to hit.

The girl looks up and curses again, and he leaps, pushing her forward as the branch _thuds_ on the sidewalk, right where she was headed.

“ _Sorry_ ,” he groans, rolling off to the wet grass by her side. “Tree.”

The girl shakes off the rain, curly hair mussed from the fall. She turns to look at him, mumbles a quick, “Thanks,” then huffs as she spots her messenger bag back under the branch. “ _Man_. I _just_ bought those books.”

Peter sits up quickly, running over to pick up her stuff and curling over it as a makeshift human umbrella. He waddles back to her, smiling sheepishly. “No puddles back there—they should be fine if you can get home soon?”

The girl gives him a once over, expressionless save for the piercing gaze of her eyes.

Rain falls harder, and Peter curls over the bag some more, hoping his phone isn’t going to need a rice save tonight.

The girl stands—taller than him, he notes, but the lean of her neck could fool anyone. She shoves her hair back again, chin up and eyes squinted. “Was that an offer?”

Peter turns as red as his sweater, and hopes the rain can shield him from looking like a complete creep. “N— _No_! No, I just—I— _here_ , take it—” he sputters, handing her bag back. “I was just—you know, observing.” _Gulp_ , as she huddles over her bag. “It’s dry.”

She smirks. “I know.”

He walks backwards, nodding nervously. “ _I’ll_ —go, now. Get home safe, uh…” he says, squinting and tilting his head.

“Michelle,” she nods, amused as she walks backwards the other way.

“Peter,” he calls politely, hands shoved back into his pockets as he fumbles for his phone.

“Thanks again, MIT!” he hears Michelle yell, before she breaks into a run, away into the drench and darkness.

(Ah. Right. His sweater.)

He feels his phone—dry—and fistpumps, breaking into a run himself.

Later, warmed by blankets and Ned’s arroz caldo, he wonders if Michelle got home safe.

…And mentally slaps himself for not asking what school she goes to.

* * *

“There are _hundreds_ of Michelles in Cambridge, dude,” Ned says, typing away on his laptop. “Like, there’re _three_ in my Asian-American History class. All white, too.”

Peter groans from the floor, palms digging into his brow ridge. “Okay, okay. I get it. Forget Rain Girl.”

“That’s the spirit,” Ned grins, saving his file and turning to his upside down roommate. “ _And_ , my old bud from pre-K is _finally_ free enough to meet up, so y’know—it’s probably better that you and Mystery Michelle never meet again, anyway.”

Peter frowns, brows furrowed at Ned. “You keep saying this girl’s gonna be my soulmate and I’m like, _95%_ sure that’s _not_ happening, based off previous experiences.”

“Hey, Liz was a fluke in my judgment—”

“Every time you set me up with an ‘old friend’, something goes wrong.”

Ned shrugs. “Fifth time’s the charm, right? Besides,” he says, pausing dramatically. “I don’t let just _anyone_ meet MJ.”

 

**_hers_ **

 

MJ picks up the call ready to facepalm and/or scowl at any given moment.

Ned’s grinning face greets her, and she smiles back out of habit instead.

“ _Hey, MJ!_ ”

“What’s up, Ned?”

“ _Miss me?_ ”

“Eh.”

“ _Aw, buddy. My heart. You hurt it_.”

“You’re cutting into reading time, Leeds.”

“ _Okay, okay, I’ll make it quick—you, me, my roommate, park, picnic?_ ”

MJ frowns. “Are you gonna ditch us to make it look like an ‘accidental’ date? _Again_?”

“ _One time!_ ”

“Three.”

“ _Three times!_ ” Ned amends weakly. “ _But you had fun on all those dates._ ”

“Passable, sure.”

“ _C’mon, MJ, please?_ ” He waggles his brows, smirking. “ _It’ll take your mind off Bag Guy._ ”

MJ clears her throat. “My mind hasn’t been on Bag Guy.”

Ned quirks a brow, snorting. “ _Yeah, it has—that’s why you haven’t told me his name._ ”

“I don’t know his name.”

“ _Sure, MJ, sure—and you totally didn’t just look away because you’re lying_.”

 _Huff._ “When and where?”

Ned grins. “ _Saturday at four. You know where._ ”

* * *

“Yo, MJ!” Ned yells, running over excitedly. He crushes her in a hug. “Missed you!”

“I saw you last month, nerd,” MJ laughs, patting him on the back. “And you FaceTimed me this morning.”

“So? I’m still allowed to miss my best bud,” he smiles sweetly, looking nowhere near nineteen. He offers his arm. “You ready to meet the love of your life?”

“Nah, but I _am_ ready to eat,” she snorts, looping her arm through his. She looks around the park, exhaling. “Nice of you to pick the park near me, by the way.”

Ned shrugs. “Your car’s dead.”

“Thoughtful.”

“It was Peter’s idea—I was willing to make you walk.”

“You’re a jerk,” MJ starts with a half-frown, moving to bump his shoulder but stopping midway. _Blink._ “Whose?”

“Oh,” Ned says, eyes widening. “My roommate. I didn’t tell you his name, did I? My B.”

_Roommate?_

_Nah._

_..._ Nah _, right?_

“Statistically,” she says slowing down her stride and side-eyeing Ned, “what are the chances of him having curly brown hair and a mouth that looks like he’s got a frog in it?”

“ _What_?” Ned laughs in confusion, the smile reaching his eyes. “Curly brow— _holy_.” He snaps his attention to her. “No.”

MJ nods.

“There’s _no_ way.”

She tilts her head up, eyes glancing to the benches in sight. “Where is he?”

Ned’s jaw slackens, and he picks up his pace, dragging her along to open grass and—

MJ scoffs half-heartedly, shaking her head.

_I don’t believe this._

Ned lets her go wordlessly and speed-walks to Peter’s form, lying on the ground and watching the clouds move along. She watches Ned crouch down, wringing his hands in that _Dudedudedude,YOUWON’TBELIEVETHIS_ way of his.

Well.

MJ always did like a good plot twist.

She walks up, hands in her back pockets as she leans over Peter’s confused face, Ned’s excited stammering paused as he looks between the two with bated breath.

MJ grins easy, tone teasing:

“Hey, MIT.”

 

**_his_ **

 

Peter felt her presence before even looking up.

It was weird, really, to think how in-tune he was to her, considering they’d only met once.

Like, he saved her from a concussion at least and death at best, but.

Still.

“Michelle?” he says, brows moving between _furrowed_ and _raised_ as he tries to make sense of Ned’s open-ended explanation.

He sees Ned balk from his peripheral. “‘Michelle’? Her name’s _MJ_.”

“ _Hey_ , he has to earn that,” MJ says, still leaning over them.

“Since _when_?”

Peter turns over, wide-eyed as he watches his best friend banter with the girl who’d been occupying his brain every day and night for the past three weeks.

She's frowning. “I don’t let everyone call me MJ, Ned.”

“It’s your nickname! And it’s cooler than ‘ _Michelle_ ’.” Pause. “Also, I don’t think I’ve called you by your first name since, like, we met.”

“That’s ‘cause you couldn’t say it properly, so you dubbed me a name to ensure that I’d be next in the line of _Great Black People_ ,” MJ quips, straightening to swat at him playfully with the back of her hand.

“Uh,” Peter cuts in, raising his hand. “Sorry. Pause.” He points between them. “You know each other.”

“That wasn’t a question,” MJ says, tilting her head.

“It’s MJ!” Ned says, gesturing wildly to his friend. “My toddler twin? Pre-K Khaleesi? The Leia to my Luke?”

“Disclaimer: I never kissed Ned,” MJ cuts in, pointer finger raised. “Neither have I wanted to, nor _will_ want to.” She nods at Peter. “So. What’s your baggage?”

Peter’s widen. “Uh?”

“Dark secret. Harsh truth. Unrevealable nightmare.”

“I’m,” he starts, glancing at Ned in a _Help? Me? Bro?_ manner, “an orphan?”

MJ nods, lips in a contemplative frown. “I can work with that.” She quirks a brow, moving to sit on the grass. “You sure that’s it? No _Ocean’s 11_ plot gone wrong? No murder? No crazy exes looking to seek revenge?”

Peter leans back, chin tucked as he replies with an intelligent, “ _Uhhhhh_?”

“It’s happened,” Ned says solemnly, staring off into the distance.

MJ waves a hand dismissively. “The _Ocean’s 11_ one, not the murder.”

“Don’t you mean the exes one?” Peter asks carefully, half his face scrunched up in confusion.

“You’d think.”

“I’m scared,” Peter squeaks, gravely aware that the universe just handed him another person he wants to spend time with daily, and she’s somehow more insane than his best friend.

The grass rustles beside them.

MJ hums, tugging Ned down. “You’re not leaving,” she says without turning.

Ned balks. “But—”

“ _Nope_ ,” she says, firmly grasping his arm. “I said I was ready to eat, and I am, but only _with_ my best bud _and_ his weirdo roomie.”

Peter frowns. “ _Hey_ —”

“You’re my new best bud, by the way,” MJ says, pointing to Peter. “I’m relegating Ned to _Weirdo Roomie_ status.”

“Hey, you can’t just _claim_ him,” Ned argues. “You just _met_!”

“Yes, I can. That’s what happens on move-in day. I can bet a full Benny Frank that that’s what happened to you two.”

“Nobody calls a hundred dollar bill a ‘Benny Frank’, ya weirdo.”

“I’m Nobody, as previously established.”

Ned winces and MJ looks away, but they’re back to normal so fast that Peter’s not sure if he saw right.

No one says anything then, until Peter chuckles.

MJ narrows her eyes at him.

“Sorry,” he says, laughing lightly. “I just—you two seem really close.”

“Ned’s my last standing relationship from childhood,” MJ deadpans. “A true achievement.”

“It’s not that hard—you just gotta feed her every couple weeks,” Ned shrugs, arm now slung over her shoulders. “Like a super low maintenance Tamagotchi.”

MJ shrugs, agreeing.

Peter opens up the cooler, laughter in his eyes. “So, food?”

* * *

“Can I ask you a question?” Peter says abruptly after downing every last drop of water from his thermos.

MJ squints at him for a moment before nodding.

“What’s _your_ baggage?”

“Hmm.”

Ned snickers.

She nudges him, face blank or bored. “I care too much about people’s opinions even when I say I don’t. I’m mixed race. I am _exceptionally_ attractive when I put in the effort. And, I have no filter. By choice.”

Peter nods. “That’s cool.”

 _Blink._ “That’s it?”

 _Shrug_. “Yeah.” Pause _. Squint._ “Oh, but—why are you ‘MJ’ if your name’s ‘Michelle’?”

“Jones,” MJ blanks. “Michelle Jones.”

Peter grins. “Peter Parker.”

“P-squared? Harsh cards, my dude.”

“Peter _Benjamin_ ,” Ned snickers. “When you get married, if you take her name you could be PB&J.”

“Always the forward thinker,” MJ says, rolling her eyes and swiping a hand over Ned’s face. “Ignore him, he’s—”

“—been setting me up with people since high school,” Peter shrugs, to her acknowledging head tilt. “Same boat.”

“I was going to say _since kindergarten_ , but I guess there’s no way that would be true for you,” she says, a hand on her chin. She turns to Ned, the smallest frown on her lips. “Unless you were running some weird romance ring in Queens at five?”

“You would’ve been part of it,” Ned nods solemnly.

“Just checking—right answer.” MJ scoops up the last of the guacamole, deliberately chewing loud and slow.

Peter’s entranced—she’s not what he’d expected from a Ned pick, and there’s a relaxed energy about her that makes him want to listen.

…Or, like, watch her make uncomfortable eye contact with people from across the lawns while crushing tortilla chips with her molars to the tune of a Linkin Park classic.

But mostly, and _extremely_  surprisingly, Peter notes the unimaginable, considering how they’d met:

There’s no spark.

* * *

“I think she likes you,” Ned says excitedly, skipping slightly as they walk home.

“Yeah?” Peter says distractedly, hands in his pockets.

“She usually just stares people down until they leave,” Ned grins, play-punching Peter’s side. “But she talked to you! Like a _lot_.”

“I dunno, man—I’m getting friend vibes, and she’s not the only one sending them.”

Ned’s jaw drops. “You, too?”

“I guess I just wanna get to know someone before seeing if I wanna date them for once,” Peter shrugs. “Plus, she’s _cool_. Like, really fun. _Friend_ fun.”

“You clicked…” Ned says with a low, distraught voice, “…and you _didn’t feel anything_?!”

“A warm fuzzy feeling,” Peter grins, catching him in a half-hug. “But no—no butterflies.”

Ned facepalms.

 

_**hers** _

 

MJ tugs at her jacket, readying herself for the inevitable.

Her keys jangle as she puts them away, and she opens the door with a simple, “Yo, nerds.”

“So how was your date?” Cindy asks immediately, sharing a _look_ with Sally. The two have a sort-of nail day going on on the floor, with papers and their laptops strewn about nearby.

“One: not a date,” MJ says pointedly to her roommates as she locks the door. “Two: pretty good. My friend’s roommate turned out to be Bag Guy.”

“So it _was_ a date, and you _totally_ made out before coming home,” Sally says, smirking.

“Nah, dude, but he seems cool.”

Cindy quirks a brow, blinking back in surprise. “‘ _He seems cool_ ’? You’re _approving_ a _male_? On the _first day_?”

“But Cinds, if he’s Bag Guy, then they’ve met twice now,” Sally teases, propping her chin up on palm, nails drying.

“Ah, _loophole_ ,” Cindy winks, raising an invisible glass in an equally invisible toast. “ _Madame_ Jones’ specialty.”

MJ covers her ears, walking stoically to her room.

“Hey!” Sally calls, as Cindy devolves into incessant snickering, “I thought you wanted your nails done?”

“I’ll survive,” MJ replies, deadpan as she shuffles into her room, closing and reopening it to flip them off.

She hears Cindy howl with laughter, and Sally join her in making wild—and loud—guesses as to Bag Guy’s appearance and personality.

She snorts, pulling out her homework and enjoying their teasing in lieu of plugging in headphones.

* * *

MJ calls Ned before bed to regale him with her roommates’ " _ridiculous,_ really,"assumptions, only for her to hear him shove the phone into Peter’s hand with a muffled, “ _I can’t deal with you two right now—just throw me the phone when you’re done_ ,” and a door clicking closed.

MJ snorts. “He seems upset.”

“ _He’s being dramatic_.”

“As Ned does.”

“ _Ha. Yeah._ ”

Silence.

Peter coughs.

 _Inhale._ “So…what did you tell Ned about me?”

“ _Tell Ned? About you?_ Me _?_ ”

“Only reason he would’ve walked over so fast to tell you who I was earlier was if he _knew_ who I was.”

“ _You—um_.” _Gulp._

“Jig’s up, MIT.”

“ _I just said I met a girl. Maybe saved her from a concussion._ ”

“Death, really.”

“… _Broken bones?_ ”

 _Hum._ “Middle ground? Sure.”

“ _I may have said she scared me._ ”

“I tend to.”

“ _A good scare_.”

“Good.”

“ _Yeah_.”

Pause _. Cough._ “You should know, though—before Ned puts any weird ideas into your head—I’m not…really looking to date, or anything.”

“ _Oh, no, yeah—I’m—same._ ”

“But we can. Like. Hang out.”

“ _Yeah?_ ”

“Yeah. You seem not serial killer-y.”

“ _Oh, good, I was going for Wimpy White Boy._ ”

“You might want to lose the muscles if you really wanna sell that.”

“ _Ha. I’ll think about it_.”

“Solid plan.”

 _Laugh_. “ _Well, hey, I have a quiz tomorrow so, uh, night, Michelle_.”

A breath. “…MJ.”

“ _MJ?_ ”

“MJ. My friends call me MJ.”

“… _Night, MJ_.”

“Night, MIT.”

* * *

She doesn’t dream about him for the first time since The Tree, and wonders how her brain and gut could change opinions so quickly after a second first meeting. Lack of adrenaline, maybe.

She still feels strongly about having him around—just not in the original _Let’s Kiss A Lot And Maybe Fall In Love_ kinda way when the lightning had hit.

All good.

She likes the new friend potential.

It's a lot easier to deal with.

 

**_his_ **

 

Peter finds that they’re like lightning to rods, but isn’t sure who’s who.

They manage, somehow, to bump into each other during off hours—at the café, the deli, the supermarket, the bank.

Over the next two weeks.

 _All_ without Ned’s prompting.

“He’s not gonna let us live this down,” Peter smirks, plopping down her groceries in the empty seat of their table.

“Thanks—you haven’t told him, have you?” MJ asks, passing him his tray of food.

“Nope. You?”

“Nope.” She tips her smoothie to him, and he taps it with his, matching her mischievous grin with one of his own. “We’re accomplices now, MIT.”

“Not dating, though,” Peter checks, narrowing his eyes as he tips his head back.

MJ’s grin widens into a smirk. “No sir.”

Peter laughs, eyes crinkling. “So wassup?”

“From the last time you saw me?”

“Yeah.”

“Nothing much, really,” MJ shrugs, digging into her salad. “Bank balance is still more than yours. Passed my last paper before finals. The usche.”

“Thanks for reminding me that I’m poor, MJ,” Peter throws back easily, but his grin plays off the joke.

“ _Funny_.” She chomps down some more food, clearing her throat before asking: “What do your…guardians?” she starts, frowning, “Sorry, I don’t know who takes care of you.”

He shrugs. “My Aunt May and Uncle Ben, but they’re basically my parents. If I called my parents by their first names.”

“Right. Your aunt and uncle—what’re they up to?”

“Jobs?” Peter asks, brows knitting slightly as he chews on his burger.

MJ nods.

 _Swallow._ “May’s an ER nurse and Ben’s a court translator.” He glances at MJ, taking up his smoothie. He remembers her sketching the first time he’d bumped into her at a café. “Yours? Artists, too?”

She shakes her head, chortling. “My mom’s an actuary and my dad’s a lawyer—an art career was off the table.”

 _Sluuuurp._ “So what are you taking?”

“Journalism—and only because I got a full ride. Minor in math.” She leans back on her arm rests. “You?”

“Engineering, same as Ned. Not smart enough for a minor.”

“Ah, _that’s_ a lie,” MJ smirks, pointing with her fork. “I saw your robot on Instagram. No way you’re an average MIT kid.”

“Stalker.”

“Journalist.”

“Still weird, MJ.”

 _Shrug_. “I’m weird. Deal with it.”

“You really are, though,” Peter blurts out with a laugh, immediately regretting it. “I mean—I’m sorry, like, not in a _bad_ way, like—”

MJ stills, watching him with a blank expression.

“I say dumb stuff a lot,” he says sheepishly. “Not by choice.”

She cracks a grin, and the tension in his gut lifts. “You should try it sometime.”

“Hmm?”

“Saying dumb stuff,” she blanks, returning to her salad. “By choice. Try it sometime.”

He grins, eyes shining as he catches her gaze. “Maybe I will.”

* * *

“Thanks for helping me lug my sustenance back home, MIT,” MJ grunts, opening her suite door. “The roommates are off being responsible students, so no worries on getting needlessly interrogated.”

 _Whistle._ “Dang, Harvard doesn’t play,” Peter says as he twirls in place, eyes scanning the halls. “I mean, my dorm doesn’t suck, but this place…”

MJ snorts, taking the bags from his hands and moving them through the doorway. “The power of privilege.”

Peter side-eyes her. “You’re loaded.”

“I said what I said, Parker.”

“Did you just _not_ call me ‘MIT’?” he asks, tilting his head like a puppy. “Are we having a bonding moment?”

“I don’t do bonding moments,” she deadpans, taking the last paper bag from his hands. “Thanks for pack mule-ing.”

“I can help put those away if you wa—”

“Mm… _nah_ ,” she says, leaning on the doorframe. “There’s a system in this room and it’s more convoluted than a _Kingdom Hearts_ game.”

Peter’s brows shoot up. “You play?”

“I need to survive Harvard, Parker—of _course_ I play video games.”

He grins cheekily, walking backwards. “That’s _two_. Two bonding moments, MJ. I’m real proud of you. Might have to tell Ned we saw each other today, really.”

He ducks into the stairwell before she can decide whether or not to throw a large ball of old, blackened gum erasers at his face, cackling all the way down.

* * *

He skips a little on his way home and Ned gives him a weird, confused look when he doesn’t even _try_ to debate on the night’s choice of film.

He just tells Ned he aced his Lit paper—true—and had a breakthrough with a friend—also true.

Ned _gasps_ , immediately throwing an accusatory _point_ his way. “You saw MJ!”

“No?”

(False.)

“ _You_!” Ned whisper-yells, getting up on his tiptoes, and hopping up and down. The TV remote lies forgotten on his chair, inching to a fall with every hop. “You’re a lying, lie-itty liar!”

Peter’s eye twitches, and he purses his lips, forgoing a verbal response by staring Ned down as he carefully _Pink Panther-_ tiptoes to his own room.

Ned jabs at the air in his direction repeatedly, face puffed and going from _annoyed_ to _confused_ to _shocked_ in a loop.

Peter puts his hands up, leaning back on his barely-open door to enter.

Ned exhales from his nose, mixing in a dying whale noise as he jabs once more in exasperation.

The door clicks closed.

 _GAH!_ “ _Youuuu_!”

 

**_hers_ **

 

“ _You’ve been hanging out with Peter!_ ”

“Oh, he told you?”

“ _No, I just know!_ ”

“So…he told you.”

“ _He said something about having a ‘breakthrough with a friend’, and you’re his only new friend in the last_ eight _months!_ ”

“Guy like Petey-boy, I’d think that’s off the mark.”

“ _Well, it_ isn’t.”

“…Okay, so we’ve hung out.”

“How _?! You don’t even have his number!_ ”

“That’s true, but we’ve been bumping into each other.”

“ _You’re! Both! Ridiculous!_ ”

“Okay?”

“ _This is some sorta sign, MJ, seriously_ —”

“You know, I have a 9 AM tomorrow, and a test for it, so I’m gonna go. Now. To dinner. With _my_ roommates. And completely ignore you until like, Thursday. Maybe Friday. Cool?”

“ _MJ, don’t hang up, and don’t mess this u_ —”

“Cool.”

_Click._

 

**_his_ **

 

Peter walks up to Ned with his hands in his pockets and a tight line on his lips. “Satisfied?”

“That you’re both the worst?” Ned asks with a tight frown. “Yes.”

Peter makes a face, unapologetic as he re-enters his room.

_Click!_

 

**_hers_ **

 

MJ calls Ned three days later on Thursday, as promised, but decides not to bring up their past conversation.

(They’d passed each other every day since—him with Peter—and it was starting to become a habit.)

“Nedward, we still up for the Christmas party?”

“ _That sounds way too close to ‘Squidward’, M._ ”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

“… _Yes, you’re still invited_.”

“Nic—”

“ _But I can change that_.”

“Rude. And my parents moved back last month, so sleepover’s canceled.”

“ _Lame_.”

“I _know_. I was looking forward to better cooking and less, like, overall supervision of my book addiction.”

“ _My parents are still trying to fatten you up._ ”

“I’m here for it.”

“ _They’re also at that point where they’re wondering if all the people my age are in a relationship, so your parents are saving your butt, FYI._ ”

“Oof. Not here for it. I’ll stick to being told art should be a hobby.”

“ _Heh. Thought that would make you feel better_.”

“Anyone else I know going?”

“ _Your boyfriend is, if that’s what you’re asking_.”

“Oh? I have a boyfriend? And you _knew_? Why didn’t you tell me? For shame, Nedward.”

“…”

“Ha.”

“ _I hate you._ ”

“You’ve tried to, for fourteen years. I think it’s safe to say you’re stuck.”

“ _I promise to try harder._ ”

“Go ham, I have a new best friend named Peter—have you met? He’s like those annoying Chinese wrapper things. Apparently stress makes him stick closer.”

 _Laugh_. “ _You still can’t weird him out, huh?_ ”

“I’ve tried _everything._ ”

“ _Maybe you should just stop? Trying? To get rid of him?_ ”

“That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

“ _Why?_ ”

She frowns.

_Yeah, MJ?_

_Why?_

“…I gotta go, my roommates are trying to bake again.”

“ _What? MJ, wait—_ ”

“Later.”

“ _MJ_ —”

_Click._

* * *

MJ _tries_ , this time.

Actively avoids their spots when she’s alone.

She’ll chalk it up to finals rounding the corner and being too busy, and it’ll make him less attached.

Ned gives up trying to get her to _just_ _talk_ and _explain_ it to Peter like a normal person two days after the call, because _he’s_ also dying from a project.

She and Peter still don’t have each others’ numbers because they’d kept forgetting to ask, so at least she doesn’t have to worry about any hounding texts or calls. She’s not sure if she could keep it up if that happened.

Peter’s company is enjoyable, really, but he’s _trouble_. He’s excitable and quippy and _chill_ , and MJ isn’t sure why it matters so much that her throwing facts and figures at him to try to mess up how he sees her _isn’t working_.

Well.

Lie.

It’s her form of friend hazing.

Which, _super_ messed up, but it’s how she knows if someone’s willing to stick it out, and it hasn’t failed yet.

But Peter’s a sensitive guy, and part of her hopes he stays forever and the other part _knows_ he’s going to run away once she starts an introvert phase again—when her brain’s too tired to be around people and needs air and pencils and no one else around.

So she’s scared.

So she avoids him.

Until, of course, lightning decides to hit the rod:

Sally and Cindy drag her out at the end of the month, knowing she needed to hit up a city library for research _and_ that she was avoiding Bag Guy, because of her whole friend-testing system.

MJ figures, _sure, why not_ , because she’d never had a chance encounter when with other people, so she takes her backup coat and her busted-looking tea thermos and worse-looking boots and leaves the comforts of her entryway for Cindy’s _The Heater’s Broken, But The Engine Ain’t_ third-hand car.

And _just her luck_ , who happens to be the one they see at the steps of the library?

Wearing his best set of clothes to date?

With a fancy-looking, horn-shaped mug at his side?

“Bag Guy,” MJ _tch_ s, freezing in place.

Or, as Cindy yells at the same time: “Peter!”

Sally snaps to attention. “ _Bag Guy_?”

Peter waves at Cindy, then at MJ and Sally, and yells back, “Cinds! Long time no see!”

Cindy glances at Sally.

Sally gets this evil look on her face that MJ hates, because her roommates are just as smart as her and therefore just as capable of her nonsense.

Cindy smiles sweetly at MJ before nodding at Sally with this just…textbook psychopathic  _grin_ , and like, MJ knows she’s not supposed to stereotype _facial expressions_ , but she also knows she’s about to wish she’d died yesterday.

She watches in internal agony as Cindy walks up and greets Peter with a _Yo!_ and a bro hug that could only mean: _Yes, We Know Each Other Well_.

Cindy sneaks a glance her way while doing it, lips quirked in a teasing smile.

_…And I’m Never Gonna Stop Annoying You About It._

Sally nudges her forward, presumably to say hello.

MJ takes a deep, cool breath, and whispers a choice, finely-aged _curse_.

 

**_his_ **

 

“MJ! You didn’t tell us you were dating _Peter_ _Parker_ ,” Sally laughs, high-fiving her old classmate.

“ _Mm-mm_ , not dating,” MJ says casually, walking over with a raised brow. “You’ve met?”

“AcaDec,” Peter grins. He turns to Sally. “And yeah, not dating. Just friends.”

“Friends who go on excursions closely resembling dates,” Cindy stage whispers, snickering as MJ nudges her.

“My roommates,” MJ says tersely, hand outstretched in their direction, “incredibly amused by my life, as you can see.”

“ _What_?” Peter guffaws, looking to Cindy and Sally. “No way.”

“ _So much_ way, Pete,” Cindy says, nodding. “And you—” _Squint._ “Wait. You room with Ned.”

“Yeah?”

Cindy spins, pointing at MJ. “Your ‘old friend’ is _Ned Leeds_?”

“Oh, _gross_ , the world’s tiny and now I need to become a hermit,” MJ frowns. She gives them a lazy, two-fingered salute and starts walking to the library. “This is too much interpersonal serendipity for one month, thanks.”

“Leaving?” Peter asks, brows furrowed.

“I know what books I want—I’ll be back out before those two can come up with baby names,” she calls back, flipping her roommates off with the last sentence.

Cindy laughs and Sandy makes a heart at MJ with her hands.

“Joke’s on her,” Cindy smirks when MJ steps through the doors. She holds up her phone. “We’ve had names down for _weeks_.”

Peter laughs, but he doesn’t blush as expected so she keeps her phone and just squints at him in inquiry.

He shrugs.

Sally clears her throat. “So how come we haven’t seen you and Ned around, huh, Pete?” she asks, arms crossed. “You mad about those drills I used to run?”

“Nah, Sal,” Peter laughs, grinning wide. “We’ve been busy. _You_ didn’t try to call _us_ over, either.”

“Fair point, Parker.”

“Did you hear from the other guys?”

“The Yale boys?” Cindy asks, quirking a brow.

“Yeah.”

“They’re fine, other than constantly wishing they could drive over to visit,” she laughs.

“They’re just glad Flash picked Stanford so they don’t have to see him,” Sally adds, smirking.

“ _Everyone’s_ glad Flash picked Stanford,” Peter laughs. He gestures for them to sit, and they do. “Man, you room with MJ, huh?”

“Yeah!” Cindy smiles, lighting up. “She’s _insanely_ smart. Helps me with my linguistics courses all the time.”

“And my law,” Sally adds.

“Peter—you break her, we break _you_ ,” Cindy finishes, a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll make it quick, ‘cause you’re a good guy.”

Sally nods. “But we don’t promise painless.”

“Okay?” Peter laughs, shaking his head. “We’re really just friends, though.”

Cindy tilts her chin up. “Maybe so.”

“Works platonically, too,” Sally says, looking him over intimidatingly. “I’m sure Ned would be on our side about this.”

Peter raises his hands in defense. “ _I’m_ on your side about it, too, guys.”

“Watchin’ you, Parker.”

“My line, you’ve stolen it,” MJ says from behind them.

They turn to find her carrying two thick books, and Peter instinctively reaches to take them.

To the girls’ surprise, MJ hands them over, as if in a continuing motion.

“You’ve done this before,” Sally blanks.

“What?” MJ asks, furrowing her brows in honest confusion. “Borrow books? Many times. With you present.”

“Peter carrying your books,” Cindy says slowly, looking between them.

 _Squint._ “Oh.”

“I’ve carried her groceries and books before,” Peter shrugs, tucking the books under his arm. “Just makes sense.”

“He…lifts,” MJ blanks.

Peter scrunches up his face. “Not really.”

She elbows him.

“I lift!” he says brightly, dropping in too much enthusiasm.

A beat.

“It’s getting cold,” Sally says, narrowing her eyes at them. “We should…go warm up somewhere,” she grins _._

Peter knows That Grin™️.

Peter’s been on the receiving end of it before.

In high school.

Right before Liz left.

He coughs. “Or—w-we could just, like, hang out here, or something.”

“ _Dude_ , it’s dropping to 28 today—” MJ starts to protest, before noticing Sally’s face. “—But I can freeze. Haven’t had hypothermia before, might be good biography fodder.”

Cindy sneaks up behind them, looping her arms through theirs and dragging them forward. “You hate getting sick,” she tells MJ sweetly, before giving Peter another piercing threat of a glare.

The not-couple gulp, begrudgingly going with it.

(Peter manages to at least get Sally to pick up his stuff before Cindy can haul them off to the nearest coffee shop.)

 

**_hers_ **

 

Sally and Cindy leave them to their own devices with the feeble excuse of finding food for themselves, even if MJ _knows_ they’d all eaten a _very big_ lunch together _just_ before leaving their dorm.

They’ll pay for this.

Slowly.

With a carefully constructed plan.

Peter nudges her out of her reverie. “Hey, so, I didn’t wanna get it from Ned ‘cause that felt a little weird, but…can I have your number?”

“I—what?”

“Not for a date,” he explains, shrugging nervously. “Just, um. Uh. Friends have friends’ numbers.”

MJ stares at him, mouth slightly hanging. “No, I know, _just_ —you still _want_ to be my friend?”

He chuckles, smiling. “ _Le duh_ , MJ. Who wouldn’t?”

She pauses, eyes glancing away _._ “A lot of people, really.”

He reaches over, gingerly placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Well, those people are lame.”

“I was ghosting you,” MJ blurts out, jerking away.

“Oh.”

“I know, it’s…super dumb, to like, ghost people you wanna befriend, but—”

“It’s not,” Peter consoles. “It’s not dumb. Like, a little mean, yeah, but not _dumb_.”

 _Snort_. “‘ _A little mean_ ’? That’s all you can throw me?”

“You have your reasons.”

MJ juts out her lips, but she looks away.

“Hey,” Peter says, bumping shoulders. “I’m not going to stop being your friend just ‘cause you ignored me for two weeks.”

Her voice is low. “And if it was two months?”

He shrugs. “I haven’t seen Sal and Cindy in like, five. _We’re_ still cool.”

“You’re weird.”

“So are you.”

MJ grins, spotting her roommates at the edge of her peripheral. “What do you know about cars?”

 

**_his_ **

 

“You’re one of those people who wants to make it on their own, aren’t you?” Peter asks after finals and, more importantly, after he and Ned finish fixing MJ’s car.

“Yup,” MJ blanks, revving her engine. It roars to life, and she pats the dashboard happily. “There’s my baby! Beautiful.” She turns to Ned and Peter. “Thanks, I’ll pay you in a week or so—”

“Nah,” Peter shrugs, wiping off grease from his arms. “It’s expensive to make it on your own,” he explains when she gives him a confused look.

“None for me, either,” Ned says, picking at his nails. “I’m just confused about why you didn’t ask me to do this sooner.”

“We’ve all been busy,” MJ shrugs, shutting off the engine and getting out of the car. “Plus, I didn’t know when I was getting paid for the freelance stuff yet.”

Ned snaps his fingers. “Actually, I take it back—you _can_ pay me.”

MJ quirks a brow.

“ _Dude,_ ” Peter hisses.

Ned puts an arm around MJ’s shoulders—but midair to avoid dirtying her clothes. “ _You_ can be our ride home over break.”

MJ nods, expressionless. “Can do.”

“You sure?” Peter asks.

“It’s just driving.”

“The _car_ part, MJ.”

“You’ll both be there to fix it, so unless you’re having doubts about your handiwork…” she says, crossing her arms, “…it’s the least I can do.”

“No doubts,” Ned says, grinning. “Dibs on DJing!”

* * *

“Who’s off first?” MJ asks as they cross into Queens.

“ _Me_ ,” Ned says, restarting the GPS.

Peter scrunches up his face, leaning in between them from the back seat. “You’re closer to MJ.”

“Yeah, but I gotta pick up something for my parents at the bakeshop by Midtown.”

“Oh, _no_ you don’t,” MJ frowns, facing him at a red light and forcing Peter to slump back in his seat. She jabs a finger into Ned’s shoulder. “We’re going to wait for you to buy it, and then we’ll _all_ go drop Peter off.”

“…Did you just call him by his first name? Within earshot?” Ned asks, quirking a brow.

MJ bumps the speaker volume up.

Peter grins lopsidedly at her, and he sees her glance at him through the rearview mirror.

She's smiling.

 

**_hers_ **

 

They meet up again on Christmas Eve to exchange gifts.

Peter gets her a _Kingdom Hearts_ mug that makes her feel a little special because _whoa, he remembered?_

(She draws him as Han Solo and Ned as Luke and they crush her in a hug that lasts _Forever_ and _Not Long Enough_.)

Ned gets her two tickets to _Anastasia_ , and, for the first time in months, makes a point of telling her that it’s for her and him _only_.

“Are you saying you _don’t_ want to try and set me and Peter up for a date?” MJ says, amused.

“This is _Broadway_ , MJ,” Ned replies seriously, hands on her shoulders and holding her down to his eye level. “This is _our thing._ ”

“Oh, no, I’m aware—I’m just really enjoying the lack of Cupid-wannabe-ness.”

“We’re gonna sing _Once Upon A December_ in December and it’s gonna _mean something_.”

“Edward.”

“Michelle.”

She mirrors him, firmly grasping his shoulders. “I wasn’t planning on inviting anyone _but_ you.”

Ned _phew_ s.

“Mostly because you bought the tickets.”

“ _Hey._ ”

“Just kidding,” MJ grins, catching him in a headlock. “It’s ‘cause you’re the best.”

“Hell _yeah_ I am.”

(Peter alternates between watching them banter and gazing in awe at the drawing in his hands.

MJ finds, in the deep recesses of her memory, that gazing is a thing that keeps happening between the two of them.

She tries to convince herself it’s _platonic, obviously, we would_ never _, we_ couldn’t, _it wouldn’t_ work.

…Tries.)

 

**_his_ **

 

“The ‘rents want to meet my New York-based friends before we go back for school,” MJ tells them when they meet up after Christmas at Ned’s house. “Cindy and Sally might go, too, if they have time.”

“Your parents know me,” Ned blanks.

“Yes.”

He juts his thumb out at Peter. “So you’re just bringing this one, right?”

Peter frowns. “Do they hate you or something?”

 _Snort_. “Nah, they love me. But it’s so much _better_ for everyone if it’s a small group,” Ned says with a sweet smile.

MJ rolls her eyes at him. “You’re going. They haven’t seen you in like, seven years. At _least_.”

“Do you think your mom’s gonna give me an impromptu math quiz again?” he asks, scrunching up his face. His eyes look frozen in fear.

“You know she only did that because our parents were hanging out and yours mentioned you were failing math, right?”

“…No.”

“Well. Now you know.”

Ned turns to Peter, expressionless. “Why did I get the friendly Asian parents? Why couldn’t I have gotten the ones who hate everyone?”

Peter blinks. “…Because you’re Filipino.”

 _Curse_.

“Look at it this way, Leeds,” MJ says, leaning back on Ned’s computer chair. “If your parents were a _fraction_ less friendly, there was _no chance_ I would’ve been allowed to play tag with you on the playground.”

“Hmm,” Ned hums, “I guess that’s fair. What would I do without you, anyway?”

“Die, probably.”

Ned shrugs.

A beat.

Peter looks between them, noticing the lack of a joke. “You’re…this is like, hypothetical, right?”

MJ raises a brow. “‘Course not.”

“I almost fell into a pond,” Ned says plainly. “And another time she pulled me to the sidewalk before a car could hit me. And—”

“Please just never leave us,” Peter cuts in, looking pleadingly at MJ. He’s not fond of thinking of a world without Ned.

“Well,” she grins, lounging, “since you asked _nicely_.”

(Peter feels a faint tug in his chest and thinks of a time before _this girl_ existed in his life—before he could get blindsided by a comment or a question or a quote, before he started wondering which of his science joke shirts hadn’t been worn yet around her to see her reaction, before he wondered why it seemed so easy to be around someone.

He tries to tell himself she’s just a _new kind of friend, the one that you_ think _you’re falling in love with, but you_ don’t _actually, ‘cause that’s_ weird _, ‘cause you’re_ friends.

…Tries.)

 

**_hers_ **

 

MJ didn’t think it was possible for the world to get smaller, and yet:

“‘Parker’?” her father asks, tilting his head. “I know it’s a long shot, but do you know a Ben Parker, by any chance?”

Peter lights up. “Oh! He’s my uncle!”

“He’s an excellent translator,” Phil Jones says, smiling. He turns to his daughter, who currently wants to know why the world wants so badly to integrate Peter into her life.

(She’s not really _complaining_ , but it’s getting weird how common this is getting.)

“Michelle, you should bring Peter by again next time you come home,” he says, before turning back to Peter. “And son, tell your uncle to come by! I’d like to thank him for helping my client.”

“Yes, sir,” Peter smiles.

“This is so weird,” MJ deadpans. She scrunches up her face, turning to Ned. “It’s weird, right?”

“I wish Sal and Cinds were here,” Ned says, copying her facial expression. “They would be great backup right now.”

“For you or for me?”

“For me.”

“The worst.”

Peter snorts.

MJ quirks a brow at him.

“Sorry,” Peter says sheepishly, glancing at MJ’s parents. “Ned’s been—”

“Extremely busy,” MJ cuts in, not sparing him a look, “with tormenting us.”

“Ned, are you trying to set up Michelle again?” MJ’s mother—Maddie—asks, humor in her eyes.

“I—respectfully—plead the Fifth,” Ned says, downing mashed potatoes.

Phil chuckles.

MJ groans. “No more law humor, I get enough of that from my roommate.”

“You _start_ those jokes,” Peter smirks.

“Eat your potatoes, Parker.”

 _Snickering._ “Yes, ma’am.”

(Her parents give Ned a _look_.

She pretends she doesn’t notice.)

* * *

“ _Ben and May want to meet you_.”

“Did Ned start this?”

“ _Probably? Your parents are invited, too, by the way._ ”

“You know, in certain cultures, this is an engagement waiting to happen.”

“ _At least we already know each other?_ ”

“Funny, Peter.”

 _Pause_.

“Wait—”

“ _YES!_ ”

“…This isn’t a bonding moment.”

“ _You tell yourself that, MJ!_ ”

“I am, like right now, I’m doing exactly that.”

“ _Bye! I’ll text you when! Ned’s coming, it won’t be weird!_ ”

“Mmk, not sure that’s how it’ll go do—”

 _Click_.

“—wn. So _this_ is karma.”

 

**_his_ **

 

“ _Okay, so it wasn’t_ that _bad_.”

“It wasn’t awkward!”

“ _It wasn’t. Even with the courtroom humor._ ”

“May thinks you’re great.”

“ _Really? High praise_.”

“ _Ben_ thinks you’re gonna uncover a government conspiracy before graduation.”

“ _Funny he should mention that—_ ”

“—you’re already working on one, aren’t you?”

“ _Maybe. Maybe three. Maybe three_ hundred _. You don’t know_.”

“Ned knows.”

“ _I’d never put Ned in that kind of danger._ ”

“MJ.”

“ _Peter_.”

“…What’s the plan for the ride back?”

“ _No plan. We fly by the seats of our pants, or not at all._ ”

“…We drove here…”

“ _Idiom, idiot._ ”

“C’mon, seriously, I need to figure out what time we get back to Cambridge.”

“ _Too late for a_ Harry Potter _marathon_.”

“I wasn’t—”

“ _Or_ Star Wars. _We could do_ Lord of the Rings, _but the theatrical release versions_.”

“…I love you.”

_Pause._

“I mean—as—you know I _didn’t_ —”

“ _Sure. I, uh._ ” _Tch._ “ _I love you, too, you know?_ ”

“…You didn’t have to say it, MJ. I know it’s hard for you.”

“ _Right. But I said it._ ”

“Because you wanted to?”

“ _And because you deserve it_.”

“Uh?”

“ _You deserve friends who love you, Peter._ ”

 _Inhale._ “So do you.”

“ _Mm. Debatable_.”

“MJ—”

“ _G’night, Pete_.”

_Click._

“…Goodnight.”

* * *

He _cracks_ the night before they drive back, Ned halfway to dreamland on the top bunk in his room.

It’s 1:53 AM and they’re going to regret this in the morning.

“Why does MJ keep thinking she shouldn’t have friends?” he blurts out, screwing shut the lid of his desktop computer.

Ned peeks over the edge of the bunk bed, a sad smile on his lips. “She’s really about being true to herself, y’know?”

Peter nods. “And that’s _great_ , I don’t get—”

“She’s tough to get through and she doesn’t hold back. Not a lot of people like that. Especially not in high school, when everyone’s faking.”

Peter frowns. _In high school?_ “Ned?”

“Yeah?”

“Did she have _any_ friends in high school?”

Ned’s voice is hoarse. “I don’t know.”

“Except you.”

Ned nods once, looking away. He rolls over after a minute, determined to not say anything more.

Peter shuts off the lamp and crawls into his bunk. He tries to think of high school with no Ned by his side every day. No AcaDec, or band, or robotics team.

Neither sleep much.

 

**_hers_ **

 

Ned pulls her aside before they leave a pit stop and tells her Peter’s been _asking_. He’s wringing his hands and his eyebags are a disaster zone and _I’m sorry! I don’t know why I said anything! It was like 2 AM!_

She sucks in a breath and tells him to wait in the car and _Ned, it’s okay, I know how loopy you get past midnight._

Peter steps out to the parking lot with churros and a dopey smile and sad eyes.

MJ tugs him to the side and looks down at the floor. She shoves her hands farther down into her pockets and says, “I moved to California in middle school and my supposed ‘best friends’ ditched me a couple years later because I _didn’t_ want to go get high and drunk with everyone else every weekend, and I _didn’t_ want to pick on the deaf kid who was better than everyone else at math, and I _didn’t_ want to make fun of the guy who had one pair of busted up sneakers who I _knew_ used his allowance to help pay for his cousin’s prosthetic.”

Peter bumps her shoulder, their coats rustling.

She looks at him.

He tilts the churros her way.

She quirks a brow.

“I’m 100% sure these are vegetarian,” Peter says.

MJ‘s brows crease. “I tell you why I don’t trust people and you…offer me churros.”

“I’d offer cake, but they didn’t have any good ones back there."

“Churros it is,” MJ grins faintly, eyebrows flicking up in a nod.

 

**_his_ **

 

It’s a little easier from there.

They still run into each other without texting or calling, and they still go on their not-dates, and they still don’t tell anyone else about them.

But also:

They talk on a call until 3 AM and text to confirm they're _not dead, just got home_ , and borrow Harvard/MIT sweaters and shirts from the other.

They hang out at their dorms with their roommates in fives and threes and twos, and sometimes they even go shopping like one big happy family, or have an inter-college study group, and Peter manages to say something smart and world-changing like:

“If MJ went to Midtown, she would’ve been Captain.”

“I have Facebook open and I _will_ unfriend you,” Sally says, looking up from her phone.

“Sorry, Sal,” Cindy winces, “I’m with Peter on this one.”

“Captain?” MJ asks, quirking a brow. Her laptop gets dragged off to Sally’s space.

“AcaDec,” Sally says, typing something. “And I’m not unfriending you. That’s probably true.”

“We didn’t even have AcaDec at my high school.”

They all look at her, jaws on the floor.

…Except Ned.

He shrugs on her behalf. “It wasn’t as big a nerd school as Midtown.”

“I _was_ the only competent person on the paper, though,” MJ muses, squinting at the ceiling.

“I feel like I’ve failed as a roomie to not know this yet,” Cindy frowns, laying back on her bed.

“I don’t give you guys much to go on in general, though.”

“I _guess_. But still.”

“Harvard’s roommate system is great, Cinds.”

Cindy smirks. “Was that code for you love me?”

MJ waves a hand dismissively.

“Sal!” Cindy coo-yells. “Look! She loves me!”

“MJ loves, like, everyone in this room,” Sally snorts.

“One more than others,” Ned snickers.

“I’m uninviting you to cram sessions,” MJ glares, kicking at him.

She misses.

(Typical.)

“You uninvite Ned, you uninvite me,” Peter says defiantly from atop her bed.

She turns from her spot on the bedside floor, glaring up at him. “I can live with that.”

Peter grins cheekily, flopping down to his belly and her eye level. “Can you, MJ? Can you really? Cindy said that _you_ said that I’m your second favorite person in the worl—”

MJ snaps to Cindy, squinting and frowning tightly. “I see how it is.”

Cindy shrugs.

Sally, beside her, winks.

MJ purses her lips.

A beat.

Two.

She shoves the papers in her hand upwards without warning, right into Peter’s (yelping) face, keeping her eyes on the other three. “Check this for me.”

Peter snickers, taking the papers.

Ned makes a face, sharing a _look_ with Sally.

Cindy crawls over, slinging an arm over MJ’s shoulders with the smuggest of smiles plastered on her face.

MJ rolls her eyes, but leans into the hug anyway.

Papers enter her view. “You forgot to carry the three.”

“Thanks,” she says, Peter’s hand brushing her shoulder as he plops the papers down to the book in her lap.

Peter’s grin drops when he turns to her and finds her face _very close_. “No—” _Gulp_. “—prob.”

Cindy squeezes MJ’s shoulder.

“ _Right_ , so—I’ma get us lunch,” MJ coughs, chin tucked as she stands abruptly and starts looking for her coat.

Her coat, under Peter.

“I—I’ll just—” he stammers, rolling away, “—there.”

“There indeed,” Sally says.

Ned hums.

Cindy calms, the smugness leaving her face. “Okay, okay—I’ll help you, M,” she says, standing and looping arms with her friend. She throws a wink at Peter as they leave. “Gotta make sure she doesn’t get hit by a tree branch or anything.”

 

**_hers_ **

 

 _Why are we friends_ , MJ asks silently, throwing a frown her way as they exit the dorm.

 _Because you love me and I love you_ , Cindy grins back, tugging her along.

 

**_his_ **

 

 _Why are we friends?_ Peter asks silently, squinting at Ned and Sally.

 _Because you love us and we love you,_ they grin back, cat-like and teasing.

 

**_hers_ **

 

“What’s Peter’s deal?” MJ asks one day before finals, because it’s easier than the paper she has to finish.

“Uh,” Cindy says from the floor, twirling her pencil and glaring at her textbook, “he’s into you?”

“Smartass.”

Cindy twists, checking her rear. “It is, isn’t it?”

 _Groan._ “I meant, like, he can’t be perfect—”

“This is so _telling_ , MJ,” Sally grins from her bed, chin in hands.

MJ glares at her. “As a friend. He can’t be a perfect friend.”

Sally shrugs. “He ditched AcaDec and his other clubs for a while in sophomore year.”

Cindy scrunches up her face, eyes up as she thinks. “Yeah, but that wasn’t really…” she starts, turning to MJ. “…Actually. You should ask him about that.”

“She’s right,” Sally says, “not really a story we can tell.”

MJ frowns. “Not something you can tell or not somethin’ you _know_?”

“Can I just say? You’re going to be a terrifying undercover journalist.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Would be nice to have a bodyguard,” Cindy muses.

“One-track mind, Cindy.”

“I was being _practical_ , MJ.”

“Yeah, M, what were _you_ thinking about?” Sally asks, quirking a brow.

MJ huffs. “Don’t follow me,” she warns, tossing on a jacket and heading out.

“There’s a rally by Quincy,” Cindy says offhandedly. “Lots of people. Real noisy. Probably illegal.”

“Heard the renovation near the law building is slowing down,” Sally says in a similar tone.

MJ shakes her head, smiling softly as she closes the door. “Thanks, nerds.”

* * *

Her and Peter knowing each other’s schedules and orders so well really doesn’t help their _We’re Not Together!_ argument, but she tables that conversation for another day when he walks up with her usual tea order in hand.

“What’s up?” he asks, looking around at the scaffolding.

“Sophomore year,” she says, jutting her chin at him. “What was that about?”

He smiles sadly. “You saw Ben’s cane?”

“Yeah.”

“He got shot. After a sentencing.”

MJ inhales sharply. “Peter—”

“It’s okay,” he grins lopsidedly, touching her arm. “It was a bad shot. And…he’s okay now, but he couldn’t work for a while, so I picked up some shifts at Delmar’s after school, to help with the rent.”

“You’re insane.”

“A little.”

“No, like,” she pauses, rubbing her temples. “Like, insanely _good_. A good person. Why are you such a good person?”

Peter frowns. “You’re a good person.”

MJ shrugs. “I’m aight.”

“My _friends_ make me want to be a good person,” he says with a low voice, not breaking eye contact. “Because _they’re_ good people.”

“ _Or_ —you’re just _nice_.”

“Can it be both?”

She cracks a smile. “Sure. Middle ground.”

“Cool.” Peter winces, hearing hammering above. “Can we not stand under scaffolding now?”

“Scared it’ll fall on ya?”

“Scared it’ll fall on _you_.”

MJ frowns, unamused. “I’m not accident prone, Pete. I’m not _Ned_.”

(They move anyway.)

* * *

“MJ?”

She hums.

“I’ll tell you anything,” he says, eyes crinkling. “You can ask me. I don’t mind.”

She smiles back.

At first.

But then.

“Maybe that’s the problem,” she blanks.

_Maybe I know the answer._

 

**_his_ **

 

Peter’s scared she’ll ask the one question he can’t tell the truth to, because he knows how she feels.

He sees her consider it, her smile dropping to neutral, eyes fading to something guarded.

“Maybe you’re right,” he says, nods. He can’t keep his mouth shut or his hands still. He crosses and uncrosses his arms, tapping fingers and looping them through hooks on his jeans and jacket.

MJ’s face is smoothed over, but it isn’t calm.

 _Nothing_ is calm.

Peter leans back and forth on his heels. “…Wanna ignore responsibilities and watch a mo—”

“Hell yes,” she cuts in, already dragging him by his hand.

* * *

It happens four days before they go back home, at the back end of Cambridge Commons, with Sally and Cindy there to confirm that they didn’t imagine it.

Ned jumps out from behind a bush and throws his wallet at Peter, yelling, “ _STREET SMARTS!_ ” as he loops his arm through MJ’s and pulls her with him.

MJ swaps a questioning look for a quick curse and a stilted, “I’ll—Ned, what the _hell_ —I’ll be back? Maybe?”

Peter holds her tea in one hand and his coffee in the other as he stares at them, dumbfounded. “ _Uhhhh_.”

“Mmk, he’s not allowed to watch any more comedy specials,” Cindy frowns tightly, ice cream in hand.

“Where…are they _going_?” Sally asks, squinting as the two disappear into the street.

 _Chomp._ “That’s the way to our dorm.”

“…How are you not getting a toothache?”

“My teeth are immune to cold.”

“That’s probably not true,” Peter comments, still looking confused at the direction their friends had left. “That was weird."

“ _Mucho_ ,” Sally says.

“It’s MJ _plus_ Ned, though—I’m _still_ surprised they haven’t been abducted by aliens,” Cindy shrugs.

“Or have they?”

Peter quirks a brow, finally turning to face them.

“Don’t mind me, I just finished a weird humanities course that everyone should _definitely_ take if they want to become paranoid shut-ins,” Sally says, eyes to the sky.

Peter tilts his head. “MJ got you to take the class huh?”

“I have one regret in life, Parker,” she says seriously, fearful eyes boring into his. “ _One_.”

 

**_hers_ **

 

“So this feels very _Taken_ , directed by Luc Besson,” MJ says, after Ned’s got her cornered in her dorm, door locked and barricaded by his own body.

Ned tilts his head. “You paid attention when I watched _Taken_?”

“No. I’m just assuming this is what happened while I finished _Of Human Bondage_ and there were like, fifty bright flashes on the screen.”

Ned rolls his eyes.

MJ smirks, then crosses her arms. “So what _is_ this? ‘Cause I’m half-waiting for Liam Neeson to bust in—”

“I don’t get you,” Ned frowns. “You both like each other, and you _both_ know it.”

_Ah._

_Well_.

MJ huffs, arms crossed. “We’re friends. We’re supposed to like each other.”

“You know what I mean, MJ.”

“No, I really _don’t_.”

“You two make heart eyes at each other!” Ned half-yells, hands thrown up in exasperation. “I don’t know what made you _both_ think you had ‘ _no spark_ ’ or whatever, because you _clearly_ have it, and it’s like a freakin’ _bonfire_!”

“Exaggeration.”

“Truth.”

MJ scowls. “I don’t have any romantic feelings for Peter.”

“Dude, I get that you think you don’t deserve love, okay? I _do_ , seriously,” Ned says, holding the sides of her arms like they’re glass. “But you _shouldn’t_ , because you _do_. And Peter’s a dunce at reading feelings, but I’ve never seen him be so dumb about his _own_ before, so take it from the guy who has to listen to his shower singing: he ain’t belting Alicia Keys because he’s got a cool new best girl friend.”

“…Girlfriend.”

“…Friend. Who is a girl.” _Frown_. “Is that _really_ all you got from that?”

“I’m on the train of thought that’s trying to argue that you’re wrong, so yes.”

“I’m not and you know I’m not,” Ned says, arms flailing.

MJ huffs, shoving back her bangs. “You really need to accept that we just—”

 

**_his_ **

 

“—don’t like each other that way,” Peter laughs awkwardly, still wondering how they went from debating alien abduction techniques to _the real mystery is why you and MJ still insist you’re just friends._

“Peter, you’re _joking_ ,” Sally says, jaw dropping.

“You really let yourself go,” Cindy says, looking him over with straight _pity_. She shakes her head. “I thought _MJ_ was bad.”

Peter turns, frowning. He lowers his coffee cup. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Uh, you and MJ beating around the bush without meaning to and sucking at being an actual couple while _being_ an actual couple?” Cindy says with a raised brow.

Peter scrunches up his face.

“Okay,” she continues, a hand up to help explain, “that wasn’t very clear, and is on me.”

“I think what she means to say is that you’re both blind as bats and deaf as…” Sally starts, losing momentum. “As. A deaf animal.” _Blink._ “Whatever, forget the metaphors—you’re _in love_ , ya goons,” she says, waving a hand.

Peter _augh_ s. “That seriously—”

 

**_hers_ **

 

“—has no basis whatsoever, past the thunderstorm,” MJ says, rolling her eyes.

“Do you know what he does, MJ?” Ned says, voice squeaking in annoyance. “He talks about you _all the time_. He asks me if you’ll think something’s funny, or for a second opinion on a new tea flavor to get you—”

 

**_his_ **

 

“—or where to get quality-looking science joke t-shirts, and asks us who your favorite characters are _just_ so she can draw them and give them to you,” Cindy says, all up in Peter’s face.

“Face it,” Sally says, “you’re both screwed.”

“I’m gonna go,” Peter blurts, sipping coffee. “I don’t really—I—she—” He shakes his head. “It just…”

 

**_hers_ **

 

“…it won’t work.” MJ inhales shakily. “And when it doesn’t—”

 

**_his_ **

 

“—I lose her, and I lose…” Peter swallows thickly, shaking his head. “…I lose—”

 

**_hers_ **

 

“—my best friend.”

It’s a whisper.

And it _sucks._

 

**_his_ **

 

They do One thing right.

(Or wrong, depending on whose side you take.)

They avoid the issue.

Sally, Ned, and Cindy do, too, but Peter thinks it’s only because they’re tired.

But like all things with them, one is drawn and the other is, too.

And it seems to only get worse once they’re back in Queens for the summer, spending time at the Parker apartment even though it is _objectively_ the smallest space out of all of their homes.

(It’s cozy and Ben tells them crazy stories and May lets them play the music too loud and none of the neighbors really care which is just a _miracle_ in New York.)

It gets worse, especially, when you consider that sometimes they’re alone, waiting for their roommates to show up, while May and Ben take a quick stroll to pick up sandwiches.

Again: alone.

On the couch.

At sunset.

“You want water?” Peter asks, clearing his throat.

MJ raises her glass. “Got it. You did. Earlier.”

 _Hum_. “Right.”

He watches her take out her sketchbook, roughing out something and nothing all at the same time.

A warm up.

He hates that they’re so close together, because he hates the rolling in his gut.

He hates that the sun is making her look all angelic, even if she’s trying to keep a frown up.

…He also hates that she’s noticed him watching.

 

**_hers_ **

 

“…You should stop making goo-goo eyes at me before they get back, Peter.”

He’s breathless. “Just my eyes, MJ.”

“Okay,” MJ says, winded by proximity. “So you’re definitely _not_ thinking about kissing me?”

“Nope.”

(His eyes glance down.)

“Just friends, Pete,” she reminds him hoarsely, leaning to the side and closing her sketchbook.

He doesn’t move, eyes struggling to stay on hers. His voice is a whisper. “Just friends, MJ.”

She hates that she’s a liar, because that’s not what’s going on and she _knows_ it.

She hates that his eyes are glinting and beautiful and that he has the dumbest voice in the world but she can’t look away and she doesn’t want to stop listening.

…She hates that he’s definitely Right There _with_ her, and she can’t help but think of the _worst case_ instead of the _what if_.

 

**_his_ **

 

Ned comes before anyone else, noting the distinct lack of closeness between them as he sits on the couch.

“Did…you guys fight?”

“Nope,” MJ replies emptily from one armrest, shrinking into the cushions.

“We’re super cool,” Peter says in robotic monotone from the other end.

Ned looks between them, lying down awkwardly to somehow lay a comforting hand on each of his friends, if only barely. “Sorry, it’s hard to reach both of you for a hug right now.”

“We didn’t fight, Nedward,” MJ huffs, finally glancing at Peter. “Just.” _Curse_ , under her breath. “This is so hard,” she whispers, and Peter’s not sure if she meant it to be heard by him, but his heartbeat quickens anyway.

“There, there,” Ned says quietly, patting her heel.

Peter wishes he could do it himself.

 

**_hers_ **

 

Cindy gets there next, and Sally cancels because her family likes to _not inform me when we’re scheduling vacations—I’ll see you guys before school’s back up, don’t worry about it._

MJ worries about it.

Especially because Sally’s a third of her impulse control and the other two-thirds are _also going on vacation, sorry it was really last minute_.

* * *

She avoids Peter.

Peter avoids her.

(He’ll admit it if she asks and that’s probably the second worst thing she’s completely sure of, right under: _I’m in love with a guy I’m too scared to lose and it’s making me push him away_ and right above: _Ned’s not going to have wifi for three weeks and I’m not sure how I’m gonna handle that_.)

 

**_his_ **

 

It’s summer vacation and he doesn’t want to be doing this _Ignoring My Best Friend_ thing, but he _is_ because he’s scared she’ll stop talking to him for good if he accidentally says something and he probably, _probably_ will.

Except by the second week of this he’s also sticking bad drawings with short greetings onto her windshield for her to find whenever he passes by her place or sees her car, which, because it’s _them_ , is more than should be possible.

 

**_hers_ **

 

“… _Hello? MJ? Did you butt-dial me?_ ”

“That’s more a you-thing, Pete.”

“ _There’s always a first._ ”

“Like notes that look like parking tickets?”

“ _Sorry. But not._ ”

“ _Ugh_. You’re…”

“ _Please don’t hang up_.”

“…You’re infuriatingly easy to talk to.”

“ _Wait, really?_ ”

“Yes.”

“ _Oh_.”

“We should talk.”

“ _Where?_ ”

“Find me.”

_Click._

* * *

MJ should laugh at how easy it is for Peter to catch her three blocks from Ned’s place and two from hers.

It’s not her usual route and she was headed away from both homes, but there he is anyway, hair mussed and face red like he’d ran.

She nods to the direction of her house.

He follows.

 

**_his_ **

 

They go to the little backyard garden and say _zilch_ for fifteen minutes, then:

He hears her clear her throat.

“Okay, real talk, Pete?” MJ says, biting the inside of her cheek. She keeps her eyes straight ahead, and her head high.

Peter watches, heartbeat threatening to make him implode. “Yeah?”

“My baggage is I’m too scared to get close to people. Because I think they’ll want to leave. And…” she turns, looking him dead in the eye.

Silence, save for the rustling leaves around them.

Beauty, save for the cracked look in her eyes.

Steadiness, save for the brokenness in her voice:

“…And I’ll never get that part of me back.”

Peter waits a moment, then reaches out tentatively, grazing her hand with his. “My baggage is I’m scared of abandonment, so I try to make everyone happy, even if I really, really shouldn’t.”

“How sucky.”

“So’s yours.”

She takes his hand. “So _I_ shut myself out, and _you_ stick like Gorilla glue.”

“Guess so,” he smiles, intertwining their fingers.

“Who knew hand holding could feel so nice,” MJ squints, observing their woven hands like it was a third grader’s science project.

“Literally anyone who’s ever done it,” Peter jokes, then realizes: “Wait, you’ve never held someone’s hand?”

“I held Ned’s a few times?”

“Yeah, but you never had a crush on Ned.”

“…You’re implying that I have a crush on _you_.”

Peter quirks a brow, but his answer comes delayed and drawn out. “Y…es.”

_Isn’t that why we’re being super weird?_

_Because our friends were right?_

****

**_hers_ **

 

“I don’t have a crush on you,” MJ huffs, furrowing her brows. “I thought that was clear.”

“…Then why are you holding my hand?”

She ignores her brain screaming about _CONTACT!_ and slowly, _slowly_ raises a brow at him, lowering her head with the motion. “Because I’m in love with you? _Le duh_?”

He moves closer. “That’s the second nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

She leans in, searching his eyes for a clue. “What was the first?”

(It’s soft and she’s not sure what he’ll say next, which is another thing with him that she enjoys, because it’s always, _always_ a _good_ derailment.)

 

**_his_ **

 

(It’s going to sound dumb but Peter knows she’ll understand because she always does.)

“When you thanked me,” he says, tilting his head up, “after I saved your life.”

“I heard it was only gonna be a concussion,” MJ says, smirking as he kisses her softly.

It feels like lightning leaving the sky.

 

**_hers_ **

 

It feels like a tree being struck.

 

**_his_ **

 

“Hey, Harvard?”

“…You’re gonna try that?”

“I love you.”

She kisses him. “You can try that, MIT.”

He pouts. “…They’re gonna be super annoying.”

“Peter, we’re having a bonding moment. Don’t ruin it.”

 

**_hers_ **

 

He pulls back slightly, grinning. “A bonding moment! Can I get that in writing?”

“No.” _Yes._

He hugs her.

Tight.

 

**_his_ **

 

She hugs back.

Tight.

“Thanks for the serial killer-y drawings.”

 _Groan._ “They weren’t that bad!” … _Maybe a little._

“They were terrible. My professional opinion.”

 

**_hers_ **

 

“Okay, but mine is that you’re super in love with me, and I’m super in love with you.”

Her arms curl around his neck. “See? We’re both right.”

Peter kisses her again.

From the TV inside, they hear thunder.

 

**_theirs_ **

 

It starts with a _Thanks_ and it goes and it goes and it _goes_ , and funnily enough, it doesn’t end.

It’s two twined trees and yet one, and lightning striking over and over in a field with three cheering shrubs surrounding them.

It’s electric—a spark that revives itself by _habit_ and _truth_ and _nature_.

It’s theirs.

It’s _love_.

**Author's Note:**

> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/embed/user/1241832268/playlist/62lOEjdmWttLC6aaHTFQlV)
> 
> idkidkidk
> 
> man i hope this had enough ned
> 
> God bless fam!! find me on doofwrites on tumblr (where comics have sprung up and fanart has as well???)
> 
> kudos n (constructive) comments appreciated, never required B)


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